Stone Cold Red Hot - [44]

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” Wide-eyed and outraged.

“I’m sorry, but I need to be able to rely on you, the kids need to. These days they hardly see you. When you are here, you…”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” he stalked off.

“And I had to pay ten pounds for the babysitter.”

He stormed back in, slammed a ten pound note down on the table and left.

I sat down slowly, stunned at how heavy things had become. Was it me? If he’d only taken responsibility and apologised things would have been fine but all that casting aspersions on whether I’d asked him…How the hell would I be able to ask him about plans for the future with Laura, now? Oh no! I was meeting Diane later. We’d arranged to have a drink at one of the new cafe bars in Didsbury. Diane had talked me into it. We ought to try somewhere new, she’d said, I had my reservations. But had Ray remembered? For a stupid moment I considered getting Vicky Dobson to babysit to avoid asking Ray but that would cost money. It was pathetic, too. I would get the kids ready for bed, have a bath myself and then tackle him.

Maddie and Tom were in their playroom. Tom was smashing farm animals into each other and yelling various threats at them, Maddie was absorbed in a Polly Pocket toy. All our attempts to raise them free from gender stereotypes had come to this. The room was strewn with books, games, dressing-up clothes, pens and play-food. It looked like someone had trashed the place.

“Time to clear up.”

Tom groaned, Maddie ignored me.

“Maddie, come on, I’ll help and it’ll soon be done.”

She slammed Polly’s palace down and flung back her head with a sigh.

“Let’s see how quickly we can do it? I’ll count.” The old trick worked with Tom who began to hurl toys into the plastic boxes along the wall but Maddie was having none of it. She moved in slow-motion. I felt a flash of irritation but directed it into lugging armfuls of clothes into the dressing-up hamper. I’d had enough rows for one day. Still, I couldn’t resist a snippy comment when we were done. “We’d have done it even quicker if Maddie had helped. If you’re that tired, Maddie, you’d better have an early night.”

“Aw, Mum.”

“Ha-ha,” said Tom.

“Shut-up,” she flounced out.

“Bath-time now,” I called after her.

They always come out of the bath happier than when they go in. That’s the main reason for doing it. After all they don’t get a chance to get that dirty at school and they hadn’t been playing out. I got them settled and allowed them to listen to one short tape, citing Maddie’s tiredness again. She grinned at me.

My turn. Once in the bath, with added bath salts, I slid down until only my head was out of the water. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift. I put a face cloth over my eyes and floated for a while. The tension in my muscles from the driving and the aggro began to loosen. When my wrinkles had wrinkles and the water was cooling I got out. Like the children I emerged feeling better; oh, a host of worries still hovered over work and the argy-bargy with Ray but I didn’t feel so battered by them.

I got ready. Ray was on the phone. As I came downstairs he went quiet. Talking about me? Telling Laura about my unjust accusations? Would she remember that I’d. asked him? Would she say so? I didn’t know her well enough to judge. In the kitchen Digger raised his head, spotted me and lowered it again. Ray showed no sign of getting off the phone so I wrote a note in felt tip on the back of a letter from school advising us of another head-lice outbreak.

Am going out now. I wondered whether to add Remember? but decided OK? would be more tactful. I went into the hall and held the message up in front of him. He put his hand over the mouthpiece, scanned the paper and nodded curtly. I pinned the note back on the board in the kitchen to remind me to check the kids’ hair the next day.

I put on my cycling helmet and my jacket and got my bike out of the shed at the end of the drive. I knew I’d be having a couple of drinks and I didn’t want to drink and drive. Drinking and cycling I felt OK with; I didn’t regard my bike in the same league as a car when it came to capacity to inflict damage. I knew it was technically possible to be drunk in charge of bicycle but I never got to that stage. My front light seemed a bit dim, I couldn’t believe how fast they devoured batteries and broke bulbs. Super built-in obscelescence like torches, irons and toasters, but tons quicker.

It’s only a mile or so to Didsbury, more upmarket than Withington with some very expensive properties. The last couple of years had seen lots of development, new supermarkets, a plethora of restaurants and cafe bars and of course lots of new houses crammed into the old Waterfords Dairy site to bring in some customers for all the leisure outlets.

It took me longer to get all my clobber on and then off and lock up the bike and remove the lights than it did to make the journey.

The bar Diane had chosen was already heaving. One look at it and I wanted to leave but she’d already bought me a drink and managed to find a table in a corner by the toilets. Most of the clientele preferred to stand, presumably to show off their designer gear and to spot the talent. Most of them were fresh-faced and full of life, I don’t know how many of them were old enough to drink legally.